


The Witch of Culloden Moor

by erinmangerer



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Book 2: Dragonfly in Amber, Episode: s02e13 Dragonfly in Amber, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Is Halloween Fluff a Thing?, Spells & Enchantments, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinmangerer/pseuds/erinmangerer
Summary: Jamie and Claire go to the stones right before the Battle of Culloden and everything changes . . .
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 28
Kudos: 101





	The Witch of Culloden Moor

Jamie held her firmly around her waist as he danced her backwards towards the stones. It was a dance of nightmares, of funerals, the end of all things. Her mind flashed to the joyful dancing at the end of the war in 1945, thought _maybe we should break into a swing instead just to lift the mood_ and nearly broke into hysterical laughter, pondered taking that long swift slide into complete madness. It had to be easier than this. 

When she got close enough, he turned her around to face her fate. If he hadn’t had his hand on hers, she didn’t know if she could have forced herself to reach for it. Her muscles were shaking in revolt. And the noise, the horrible noise. The buzzing in her ears was so loud it was nearly drowning out Jamie’s voice.

But as her hand got closer, the sound changed. The buzz became a tidal wave. And at the last second before her hand would have contacted the rock, the whole world seemed to explode.

Everything- the sound, the energy, the very essence of the stones- came rushing out and into her. The power was so intense it knocked her and Jamie both off their feet and sent them back across the stone circle onto the hard ground. It took Claire a moment to come back to herself, but she wasn’t hurt. In fact, she felt invincible, with so much energy pulsing through her she wondered if she could even experience pain anymore. She was relieved to hear Jamie’s voice and crawled over to where he had sat up on the ground. She ran her hands over him, looking for injuries, and was astonished to find a glowing blue light emanating from her palms. When she reached his feet, she searched back over his form and realized he no longer had even the slightest mark on him- not even on the hand Randall had nearly destroyed. He held it in front of his face in disbelief, turning it around and looking at his fingers, the fingers that bent just as easily as those on his other hand. Even the nail mark in the center of his palm was gone. And they both knew, even without looking, that the scars on his back were gone as well. “Claire?” he said in the smallest voice she’d ever heard from him. He could still feel the tingle in his skin even though she hadn’t touched him. “What’s happened to ye?”

“I don’t know,” she told him. She wished she had his gift of language, finding the right words. There was a whole story to be told, volumes worth, but how could mere words possibly tell it? “All I know is that it feels like whatever power exists in those stones to make traveling through time possible? That power is now in me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Jamie breathed, crossing himself. He looked both fascinated and fearful, the superstitious Highlander in an internal battle with the rational learned man. At times it was most uncomfortable for the two sides of him to share one frame. “Are ye . . . and the bairn . . .?”

It wasn’t often that Jamie was at a loss for words and Claire nearly chuckled, but this time it wasn’t in hysterics. A warm, all-encompassing blanket of calm had fallen around her. It wasn’t just power flowing in her veins, it was the _knowledge_ of what to do with that power. “We are both fine, Jamie, I promise. I am still me. The baby is healthy and strong and stubborn- she is a Fraser, after all,” Claire said with a smile. Jamie’s eyes went wide, and Claire mouth fell open as she realized what she’d said. But there was no hesitation, no doubt. She was more in tune with everything now, including the life growing inside her. And she knew, with as much certainty as she knew anything, that the baby still so new to them was another girl. “Ye . . . ye’re sure? It’s another lass?” Jamie said in wonder, reaching out to gently caress her abdomen. She loved him so profoundly in that moment because he did not ask _how_ she knew. He simply accepted her and everything she was, just as he always had. And the force of her love made the power inside her grow even more.

As they both got to their feet and dusted themselves off, they heard the echoes of the big guns in the distance. The battle still loomed. But Claire knew that everything had changed. The goal they had worked toward for so long- struggled for, wept for, bled for- was finally in her grasp. She finally had the power to change the future. She knew she had to stay. Now, she only had to convince her supremely stubborn husband. “Jamie, you have to take me back to Culloden,” she told him, and he was already shaking his head before she even had the words out. “Jamie,” she started again, reaching out to take his hand. It was, as he said on their wedding night, always easier when they touched. “I promise I will stay away from the fighting. I will stay hidden. Nothing is going to happen to me or the baby. But you _must_ let me help. It is the only way we have a chance.” To prove her point, she lifted her arms, closed her eyes, and called the wind. It swirled around her, picking up leaves and debris, gaining strength until they were both stumbling slightly, and Jamie had to grip her shoulder for support. Then, with a long exhale, Claire lowered her arms and the wind died down to a gentle breeze. She opened her eyes, her whisky ones meeting his blue ones, and she smiled. “I can do this, Jamie. It isn’t how we planned, but we _can_ change the future. Do you trust me?”

Even though she could tell he was still stunned by her display of power, he answered without hesitation. “Aye, with my life, Sassenach.” 

“And with your heart?” Now it was _his_ turn to smile, and Claire felt a titanic sense of relief. No matter what happened in the next hours, it would all be for nothing if he weren’t still with her. “Always,” he told her, and their lips met gently. “I have yer word, Claire? Ye willna do anything that puts you or the bairn in danger? I willna take ye back otherwise,” he told her firmly. Even though Claire knew she could probably find a way back without him, she nodded solemnly and said, “You have my word, James Fraser. We will be well.” Then they walked back down the hill to where Jamie had tethered Donas and rode back in the direction of Culloden Moor.

* * *

Jamie knew he didn’t have much time, needed to get back to his men and his command, but there was no chance he was leaving Claire until he’d found a safe place for her. He rode behind the Scottish position on the field and into a stand of trees, wanting to get her as far from the action as possible. But when they passed a small opening in the trees with a view of the grey April sky over their heads, Claire spoke up from behind him and said, “Jamie! Go back! Turn around- that is the spot.” Jamie did not understand what had happened to his wife on Craigh na Dun, but he could feel the power, the knowledge, radiating from her and it helped settle him somewhat. _Mo bhean gheal_ , he thought to himself for the first time in his own tongue. _My white lady_. And despite everything, she was still _here._ He could scarcely breathe from the relief of it.

They both dismounted from Donas and Claire turned a circle once she was on the ground, nodding. Here. It had to be here. “You should go,” she told him, and he gathered her up and kissed her fiercely, passionately, desperately. Every moment felt stolen. When they broke apart, breathless and longing, Claire lifted her hand to the side of his face and said simply, “I will see you soon, soldier.” He nodded, climbed back on Donas’ back, and seconds later was gone. 

Claire wasted no time after his departure. She piled sticks together in the center of the clearing and with one upraised hand, the sticks were ablaze. Jamie had given her a small cooking pot and she found some larger branches and formed them into a stand for the pot to go over the fire. With a few whispered words, the branches hardened and fused so that they would not burn or collapse. She knew exactly what she needed and exactly where to look- the sight came easily and painlessly, causing her to briefly think back to their visit to Jamie’s grandsire and her theatrical “vision.” She shook her head ruefully and carried on gathering her supplies. 

Wormwood and sage for banishing. Rosemary and elderberries for protection. Marjoram and cloves for personal power. She felt she needed something more and was glad she’d had the presence of mind to take their wedding gift back from Jamie. The amber would offer purification as well as absorption of negative energy, turning it to positive. The dragonfly would give her the bonus of further connecting her to the spirit and faerie realms. She also still had the stone Master Raymond had given her in Paris for detecting poison, knew it would offer clarity and a link to another source of power. The spell wouldn’t consume the stones- she would make sure of it.

Everything went into the pot and the mixture began to smoke and glow. Claire took a few deep breaths to center herself, clearing her mind, and then began her incantation. The words flowed effortlessly, as if they had always been waiting on her tongue.

_Power of those who have gone before, I call thee_

_Power of those who are now, I call thee_

_Power of those who are yet to come, I call thee_

_Power of time, of the ancient stones, I call thee_

_I bring these herbs, these stones, the power of the elements- earth, wind, fire, and water- as an offering_

As she spoke each of the elements, she added them to the pot as well- a small handful of dirt, a burst of wind she gathered in her hand, blowing it gently into the mix, a piece of burning wood from the fire, and a flask of water she had gathered from a nearby stream. The flame grew higher and changed color several times, finally settling into a glowing red. Beneath her feet, the ground began to shake slightly.

Raising her voice louder, she continued:

_In this time and in this place, take my enemies from this space_

_Let the earth remember them no more, from this cauldron my power shall pour_

_Save this land, rescue her sons, restore her families, preserve her homes_

_Secure the one who grows in my womb, save my love from history’s doom_

The rumbling beneath her feet grew stronger, the wind rose higher. She stepped forward, pulled her sgian dhu out of her boot, held her hand over the pot, and swiped the blade across her palm. Clenching her hand into a fist, she added the last element of the spell into the brew- her own blood. As the basis of her connection with Jamie, it was the foundation of everything: power, motivation, intention. Each drop sizzled and flashed blue when it landed. She held out her other hand over the wound to slow the flow of blood and stepped back, bringing the spell to its climax.

_I was brought here by fate, I have stayed here by choice_

_Swearing sacred vows in both blood and voice_

_Let the power here gathered vanquish our foes_

_As I now raise my hands, the energy grows_

_My blood in him and his in me_

_As I will, so mote it be!_

Claire punched her hands towards the sky and the contents of the cauldron shot up through the clearing. When the rush of power cleared the trees, Claire thrust her hands forward in the direction of the battlefield. Every word she’d spoken, every action she’d taken was as natural as breathing. But it was still a tremendous expenditure of power, and as the wave of magic she created rushed toward the battlefield, she dropped to the ground, drained.

* * *

Jamie had been begging Charles Stuart to allow the men to charge, to strike while they still had some small chance to catch the British disorganized. He knew it was a fool’s hope, but the inactivity was killing him. He had to move. Even moving with a starved, depleted army with no supplies and no hope was better than standing still. He felt a strange sort of tingling in his blood that he attributed to the anxiety of their final fight. Finally, they received the order, and Jamie and the rest of the Scots turned to face their fate staring down the British guns, just as Claire had faced her fate earlier at the stones. He thought of her, wondered what she was doing, prayed that she would be safe, she and the child.

He had to trust her. 

Then he took off at a jog, then a run, toward the British lines with a great battle cry. As cannons began to send up plumes of dirt around them, there was suddenly a noise that drowned them out, a sound greater than any Jamie had ever heard. The men slowed, looking around, and the arms fire coming at them began to dissipate. 

The noise, the _storm_ was coming from behind them, from the direction of the woods where he’d left Claire. And the storm was a red fire.

The men were terrified and since there was no cover to be found on the open field, most of them simply dropped where they stood, wrapping their arms around their heads for protection. They were crying out for God, for their mothers, for the saints, the Blessed Virgin, anyone who would listen. The great torrent seemed to simultaneously take an eternity to reach them and no time at all. It flew over their heads and seemed to them as though someone had summoned the very fires of hell. They heard nothing but the rush of the storm, saw nothing but a red haze shining through their tightly closed eyes.

It could have been minutes or hours, no one knew. But as quickly as it had come, suddenly the storm passed, and everything was calm. Not just calm. _Silent._ There was an unnatural stillness left behind in a place that had been filled with chaos such a short time before. As the Scots began to slowly lift their heads, helping each other to their feet, they looked across the field and blinked, rubbing their eyes in disbelief. 

The British Army was gone. Their weapons, their horses, all their supplies remained. But the men, the thousands of well-trained men who had faced them across the field, were gone.

And there were no bodies. They had _evaporated_ , wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. Cannons stood unmanned. Horses stood placidly eating grass. Beyond the battle lines, tents flapped empty in the wind, stores of food and weapons and ammunition waited for their new owners to claim them. The men began to inch forward slowly, unsure if any threat remained. Then, some looked behind them and they were stunned all over again. The wounded, the dying, the dead who had already fallen so early in the battle- _they were all healed and whole_. 

Chaos of a totally different sort descended on the field. Some of the men took off at a run towards the empty British lines like they were children. Some simply stood with their hands on their heads, their mouths hanging open, looking from the British lines to the Scottish and back. Some of the men crossed themselves, dropped to their knees in thanksgiving. And from somewhere, some of the men started laughing. Then a few more joined them, then a few more, and then it seemed like the entire Scottish force was joined in a chorus of joy that rose to the heavens just like Claire’s spell had done. It was this sound that drew her to the edge of the woods, but only for a moment. She knew it was safer to stay hidden until Jamie’s return. But Jamie, as though he still felt the connection of their blood buzzing from the spell, sensed her and turned towards the trees across the distance. As much as his soul yearned to go to her, he had someone he needed to see first.

* * *

A short while later, Claire heard horses’ hooves as she sat warming herself by the fire that still blazed in the clearing. She quickly got to her feet and found herself in Jamie’s arms almost as soon as he dismounted. She knew he was alright before then, had seen him clearly in that moment across the field, but the relief of being able to hold him again was still overwhelming. “Ye are well, _mo graidh_? Both of ye?” he asked, looking her over from head to toe and bringing one trembling hand to rest on her stomach. “We’re both fine. I promised, didn’t I?” she told him, smiling tenderly. But Jamie grew even more somber. “Claire, I need ye to tell me what happened, what ye did.”

“You’ve always wondered if I was a witch. I think today I became one,” she told him, pausing to allow the words to sink in. “The stones gave me everything I needed- the power, the knowledge, the supplies, the words. So, I used them. I did what I had to do to save you, to save our family, our home. I don’t regret a thing.”

“ _Ah Dhia,_ a witch,” he said, taking a moment and swallowing before continuing. “I’m afraid for ye, Sassenach. Ye were almost burned at the stake at Cranesmuir just from people speculating about ye being a witch. I dinna ken if I can keep ye safe. What happens now?” Naturally, his concern was more for her safety than having a witch for a wife, and she loved him even more for it. She couldn’t help but give a small shudder, remembering the witch trial, her time in the thieves’ hole. But the blanket of calm that had settled on her at the stones was still firmly in place. “It will be alright, Jamie. I don’t know how to explain how I know that, no more than I know how to explain any of the rest of this. But my power is very much under control, and I will only call on it when I have no choice. I certainly can’t imagine ever having to do anything like this again.” Then she asked, “And what about you? What happens now?”

He smiled then, a genuine smile that lit his entire face. Claire’s face echoed his without hesitation. How long had it been since she’d seen such joy in his countenance? “Weel, I have fulfilled my duty to King and country, Sassenach, and I told Charles Stuart as much just now. He will have plenty of help on his way to London, especially with his father arriving soon. I still think he canna quite believe what’s happened himself, so it was a good time to get him to agree to things. I have no wish to spend my life in politics or in another royal court. I’ve had quite enough of that.”

“So, what are you saying?” Claire asked, hardly daring to hope.

“We are free, _mo nighean donn_.” And with that he claimed her lips, and their kiss was full of promise, the promise of the life they had always wanted that was now, finally, theirs for the taking. Claire, with a watery smile, looked at Jamie and said, “Well then, soldier, take me home to Lallybroch.”

* * *

Lord and Lady Broch Tuarach returned home and lived out their days in peace. Their daughter Brianna was safely delivered several months later and was eventually joined by many brothers and sisters (the power Claire received from the stones that day at Craigh na Dun had the added benefit of healing her reproductive system, and she was able to conceive and bear children without any further complications). They never quite reached the twelve that Jamie wanted, but they still were able to give Jenny and Ian plenty of competition. Jamie took his place as laird and Claire continued her work as a healer through the years, using her expanded knowledge to heal and save many. And with much care and discretion, her secret remained safe. 

As tends to happen in Scotland, the story of the events that took place that day at Culloden was told and retold, embellished and expanded, put into songs and dramas, until it eventually became the stuff of legend. And even though only a few ever knew the whole truth of it, the legend told of a white witch who summoned all the powers of the universe to vanquish the mighty British Army. Legend has it that The Witch of Culloden Moor can still be seen there to this day, that her magic can still be felt echoing through the trees and across the field by those keen enough to sense it. 


End file.
